


the flesh is just the flesh

by daydoodles



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Blood, Cannibalism, Gore, Illegal Activities, Kidnapping, M/M, Murder, Murder Husbands, Organ Theft, Torture, and also kitchen utensils, more improper use of hockey equipment, the pimms is very brief btw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-20 14:10:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12434466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daydoodles/pseuds/daydoodles
Summary: Every muscle, every tendon, every bone, I take and humiliate.





	the flesh is just the flesh

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who's back again with another thing for [Omgcpumpkins](http://omgcpumpkins.tumblr.com)? Yep, it's me. Kent got to go on a killing spree last time, so now it's Jack and Bitty's turn.
> 
> Disclaimer: Literally all of the information in this fic (including the mentions of cooking) I got off of Google. I don't know shit, my dudes.
> 
> And in case you're wondering, the title and description are from [this song](https://youtu.be/uBSFIJgA09Q).

The front door opens with a soft click, and Jack toes his shoes off in the doorway before heading to the kitchen and setting his briefcase down on the table.

“Hey, baby. How was work today?” Bitty asks as Jack walks over and wraps his arms loosely around his waist.

“It was good.” Jack nuzzles the crown of Bitty’s head, pressing soft kisses to his hair. “We had a bit of a tough client today, but it was mostly just because of how specific they were. Nothing too bad.”

Bitty stops stirring the vegetables on the stove, wipes his hands on his apron, and turns to wrap his arms round Jack’s neck. “Did you get what you needed, then?”

“ _Oui, mon chou_. Ransom got it all ready for delivery, Holster will finish the job any moment now.”

Bitty presses a kiss to the tip of Jack’s chin. “Well good, then you can clean up and help me with dinner.” He smiles sweetly and pats Jack on the butt to get him moving.

“Oh, speaking of dinner,” Jack says as he washes his hands, “I brought your favourite.” He nods to his briefcase, and Bitty’s eyes go wide.

“Oh honey, you didn’t! You won’t get in trouble, will you?” He flashes his big baby browns at Jack, simultaneously excited and concerned, and Jack nearly has an aneurysm it’s so adorable.

“ _Non_ , don’t worry, _mon coeur_. I told you the client was very specific, they only wanted very...particular things. Most of the leftovers are being sold to other regulars, but I knew you would want these.” He winks, and takes Bitty by the hand to lead him toward the table.

Jack unlatches the briefcase, and when he opens it, Bitty’s eyes get wide again. There’s a very distinct pair of thighs, fresh from the butcher, and Bitty knows just what he wants to make for dinner.

“I know you can’t use the skin like you like to, because of the tattoos...sorry, love.”

Bitty waves Jack’s comment away as he moves the thighs over to the kitchen counter for cleaning. “Don’t worry, sweetpea, I can more than make do with the meat and bones!” He pecks Jack on the cheek, and gets to work.

Most of the process is just removing the skin, and cutting the meat into sections, and cleaning the bones to use in broth later, and Bitty’s done it a million times so he lets muscle memory set in as he tells Jack about his day. It wasn’t anything spectacular, he just did some light baking and cleaned the house, but Jack listens intently anyway.

“Did you clean the basement?” Jack asks as Bitty seasons the meat with his signature mix.

“Of course, darlin’. You can use it tomorrow if you need to.” He hands the extra meat to Jack, who puts it in the fridge.

“Thanks, Bits. I know you hate it when I bring work home with me, but...I don’t think it can be helped this time.” He shrugs.

Bitty cocks an eyebrow as he puts the meat in a skillet, searing it quickly as he talks. “Why, baby? Is it a big job?”

“Not big, per se. It’s more personal than anything, I want to take my time.”

“Oh, then go ahead. You gonna want any help?” Bitty moves the skillet into the oven to finish roasting the meat, and Jack grabs some plates from a nearby cupboard as Bitty sets a timer.

“You know I love it when you help me, _mon beau_.” He kisses Bitty’s forehead, and plates the vegetables Bitty had sauteed before he got home. “Plus, I think you’ll enjoy this job, too.”

“Well, I do love watching you work.”

-

Jack goes through the back door, kicking it open roughly since his hands are full, and shuts it behind him with a foot. “Bits?” he calls toward the kitchen, and Bitty pops his head around the corner.

“ _Kent Parson?_ ” he asks, and Jack adjusts the unconscious man he’s got slung over his shoulders as he nods.

“I told you you’d like this.” Jack flashes a lopsided smile, and Bitty claps excitedly.

“Oh, hold on honey, let me get my apron! Don’t start without me, y’hear?”

“I’ll be waiting,” he says, and Bitty dashes to the other room.

Jack drags a limp Kent down the stairs to a large concrete room, and straps him to the chair in the centre of it. He doesn’t bother with a mask like usual, since Kent knows him well enough that he’d know it was him anyway, and also something in Jack makes him want to see Kent’s reaction when he finds out whose hands his fate is in. He’s really curious to see what Kent makes of Bitty, too. Bits has changed a lot since they last met.

As Jack is finishing setting up, Bitty comes hopping down the stairs, apron donned. There are a couple old blood stains on it, but the embroidered “kiss the cook” is still visible.

“You want to do the honours, Bits?” Jack asks. Bitty nods, and he holds an arm out as if to say, “the floor is all yours.”

Bitty walks over to the counter against the wall and grabs his weapon of choice: a kitchen knife. Cliche, but effective. And fitting. He walks up to Kent, eyes him up and down, and decides the cheek is the way to go. Start small and work your way up, as they say.

He slices the knife across Kent’s face, and the cut’s a bit deeper than he meant for it to be, but it’s not like it matters in the end. Unfortunately it’s still not enough to wake Kent up, so he has to resort to a trick Ransom taught him; he makes a fist, lines his knuckles up with Kent’s sternum, and drags them down, fast and hard. Kent’s head shoots up, and he gasps for air, looking frantically around the room.

It takes a few minutes before he can speak, but when he can, all he says is a simple, “What the fuck?”

Jack takes a step closer now, puts an arm around Bitty. “Hey, Kenny. Long time no see.”

“Hi, Kenneth,” Bitty echoes with a false sweetness only perfected by a born and raised southerner.

“That’s not even my name, Eric. What the hell is going on?” Kent asks, and his pupils look a little dilated, like maybe his brain isn’t quite back to working at full capacity yet.

“Well, here’s the thing, Kenny: I have a client who wants a specific type of meat, and you just happen to fit that description, so I couldn’t pass up this amazing opportunity for a reunion.”

“A specific type of _what?_ ”

“He said ‘meat.’ At least try to keep up.” Bitty rolls his eyes, but it’s almost fond. He enjoys playing with his food more than Jack would have initially thought, considering he’s a chef and all, but by now Jack has learned that’s part of what being a chef is.

“Anyway,” Jack interjects, “the order is for a heart, ribs, lungs, and forearms: all from an extremely athletic individual. My client likes to keep his meat lean...and if I’m not mistaken, you have very little body fat.”

“I mean, that comes with the territory of being a professional athlete.”

“Kent, you’re not exactly saving yourself by agreeing with my husband.” Bitty laughs a little at the ridiculousness of it all. He expected Kent to fight back more.

“Am I supposed to save myself?”

“You’re supposed to try, arentcha?” Bitty can't believe the utter lack of motivation Kent has.

“I don’t think it matters either way, _mon lapin_.”

“But that takes out half the fun.” Bitty turns to Kent, takes a step closer, presses the blade of the knife against the side of his throat. “Kent, honey, do me a favour and at least pretend like you don’t want to die.”

“Eric, I’ve been in therapy for years for being suicidal. I’m a hockey player, not an actor.” He flashes a stupid grin, and Bitty rolls his eyes for real this time.

Jack steps up now, asks Bitty if he can take over. Bitty nods; Jack knows Kent, knows what will break him. What he says next shouldn’t be surprising.

“Alright, Kenny, here’s what we’ll do. To make it worse for you, and more fun for us, we’ll keep you alive as long as we can. Deal?”

Kent just stares at him. “Am I supposed to agree to that?”

“You don’t have a choice. Bits, if I may?”

“Go ahead, darlin,’” Bitty says as he kisses Jack for good luck. Not that he needs it; he’s good at his job.

Jack’s favourite thing to start out with is his trusty hockey stick covered in nails, a bit of nostalgia with a twist that looks like it belongs in a zombie flick - that might just be all the old blood and guts caught on the nail heads, though. Either way, it’s effective, and holding a hockey stick’s second nature to Jack anyway.

He takes one swing at Kent’s head, and there’s a crack, and then the other side of Kent’s face is covered in blood. It drips down onto his shirt, soaking his shoulder, and Kent’s eye shuts from the swelling. It’s not Jack’s cleanest hit, but then again, he’s not all that concerned about efficiency for once.

He nods to Bitty, who’s now holding a hammer, and Bitty circles Kent a few times like a shark before he decides his next move. It’s simple, just a strong blow to each of Kent’s kneecaps, effectively shattering them both, and then Kent goes pale. He’s still doing pretty well, all things considered; Bitty checks his heart rate and it’s more or less normal, so he hasn’t gone into shock yet, he’s just a little overwhelmed.

Bitty grabs a meat tenderiser from the counter, walks back over to Kent and lifts his face up so he can lean in close to Kent’s ear. “Don’t take this part personally, hon, but I gotta make sure Jack’s client is satisfied with the quality of his meat. Don’t tense up, that makes it worse.” Then he swings the tenderiser down onto Kent’s forearm.

He keeps going, over and over and over, till the little spikes break the skin and make a grid of blood droplets all over Kent’s left arm. Then he moves to the right, repeats the process all over again. He grabs his knife again, scores Kent’s forearms for good measure; the cuts are shallow, but deep enough to bleed a decent amount, and Kent looks like he’s fading. Bitty cuts Jack a look, so they bring out their secret weapon.

Jack takes a step forward, and even though he isn't holding anything Kent looks more terrified than he did before, like he knows Jack is up to something. Jack ignores his confused stare, just makes himself comfortable on Kent’s lap, and then he kisses him.

It’s rough, and tastes like blood, and Kent doesn’t seem to have full control of his body so it’s a little sloppy, but Jack keeps kissing him anyway. He kisses his mouth, his face, his neck, and there’s blood all over Jack's face now but he doesn’t care. This is it, the moment of truth. He leans back, looks Kent dead in the eye that’s not swollen shut, and whispers.

“You know, Kenny, I never did love you. I always knew we would end badly, because we’re bad people. In different ways, maybe, but still.” He runs a hand down Kent’s cheek, dragging across the cuts, and Kent winces. “I don’t hate you or anything like that, but maybe that’s what you can’t stand; if I hated you, at least I’d be feeling something. You were always nothing to me.”

Then he slides his hands down to Kent’s throat, kisses him one more time, and snaps his neck.

-

That night, Bitty makes the best crumbled brains with horseradish mayonnaise he’s made in a very long time.

After dinner, Bitty asks Jack what his plans are for the next day, if he needs to bother cleaning the basement so soon, or if it’ll just get dirty again.

“You can clean it if you want, _mon chou_. I don’t think I’ll need it for a while.” Jack plops down on the couch, Bitty falling into his lap. “But you know, we really should have saved more of the meat. You know I adore your poached brains, but you need to eat more protein.” He runs a hand absently through Bitty’s hair.

Bitty giggles. “I know, mister, I know. Bring me some tomorrow and I’ll cook whatever you want.”

  
Jack presses a kiss to the tip of Bitty’s nose, which makes Bitty scrunch up his face in that adorable way Jack loves. “Deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> (The thing with the brains is an [actual dish](http://www.sbs.com.au/food/recipes/crumbed-lambs-brains-horseradish-mayonnaise), I didn't make that up.)
> 
> Please hit me up with some gore prompts over on [my Tumblr](http://irlkent.tumblr.com) \- I want to write more for spooky season but I need ideas!!


End file.
